Lost in Haunting Pictures
by BettyBubble
Summary: They had lost and found each other so many times until both ran out of chances. Seeing Daryl with another woman horrified her to the depths of her soul. She had lost him forever and couldn't fight the haunting pictures which were running through her mind. Caryl
1. Lost

**This is my submission (in four parts) for the October's Challenge: Caryl Bingo. It's my second story and the first one which is completed.**

 **I used the horizontal line in the middle with** ** _Candles, Pining, FREE, Missed Chances,_** **and** ** _Nightmares_** **. The 'FREE' could stand for** ** _Bed Sharing, First Times, Snuggling For Warmth, A Shower, Confessions, Drunk Confessions, Picnic, Daryl's Bike, Hurt/Comfort, Flowers_** **and** ** _Road Trip_** **, because you will find all these squares in the story.**

 **A/n: The little tale begins within the time jump after 06x09 - 'No Way Out' and ends one day before 06x13 - 'The Same Boat'.**

 **Betaed by the amazing** ** _ **CharlotteAshmore!**_**

 **Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. Likewise, Nine Lives assumes no responsibility for the content of the fiction archived. Readers are solely accountable for deciding what content is or is not appropriate for them to view. By selecting a story to read, you accept that you read and considered the applicable warnings and are of appropriate age to view the material therein.**

 **This is also an excuse for the break on 'Don't kiss!' but I will go back to this. The next chapter is already in progress!**

 _ **PART I - Lost**_

She'd lost him.

She'd lost him when he'd tried to pull away, venom spewing from his lips as he'd poured out his failure and anguish. The sensitive man who'd put his arms around her, grounding her to the dirt to hold her back from running to the walker who'd once been her daughter. The man who'd brought her a flower and told her stories about hope had raged against his pain, his voice echoing into the darkness of his camp. Yet, she'd stood her ground and let the bile roll over her, knowing the anger he'd felt had been partly directed to himself. He hadn't pulled away after that night.

She'd lost him in the chaos as the farm had fallen. Everyone had been helpless in their need to escape, and she'd found herself alone, running blindly through the night, only the glow of the barn Rick had set ablaze to light her way, her screams and the sickly moans of the dead echoing in her ears, until she'd seen his silhouette in the darkness, his bike idling on the dirt road, yelling for her to run to safety, to him. He'd carried her away, he'd saved her.

She'd lost him when the convict had sought to sabotage the prison, losing herself as well as she sought refuge in the tombs. The hunger clawing at her gut, and the cold walls had been a petty concern when compared to the emptiness in her soul. Her own breaths, a solitary sound, her only companion when she'd heard the clatter from the corridor. She'd doubted her own sanity when the door had opened and his piercing blue eyes had met hers, a hallucination, a mirage. But she'd been wrong. He'd been very real as he'd lifted her nearly unconscious form into his strong arms and felt the vibration of his body with every step he took. Again he'd been her hero, carrying her back to safety.

She'd lost him when he'd made the decision to follow his brother. She hadn't wanted to believe her own eyes when the car had returned without him. Rick's words had been a blur, heavy and muted in the light of her despair, tears blinding her at the implications of his absence. Maybe it was better he hadn't come back. For a long time, she'd seen herself drowning in him. The more time they spent together, the more of her heart she lost to him. It had been wishful thinking on her part, hoping, praying he could have thought of her as more than his friend. It was ridiculous. He'd only held onto her because he'd had no one else, not since his brother had been left to die on that rooftop in Atlanta. He didn't need her anymore in light of his brother's return.

The moment she'd seen him again had awoken new hope. He'd come back.

She'd lost him without having a chance to say goodbye when Rick had banished her, a banishment disguised as a run. A run, suggested by the man she'd always viewed as a friend, a brother, her trust broken in an instant as his true intentions had become clear. She'd done so much for the group, caring for the children, taking a leadership role to make certain everyone was fed and clothed, a great benefit to their leader who'd rather bury himself in the garden and play farmer. What she had meant to his late wife, what she still meant to his children … it had all been forgotten as he'd left her behind.

When she'd seen the smoke that day, her fear and panic leading her back to the prison, there'd been nothing left to hope for.

She'd been numb for so long afterwards, nothing of who she'd once been left inside her. As she'd led that girl into the woods to put a bullet in her head, a girl she'd promised to care for as if she were her own, she'd wondered when she'd become an unfeeling monster, someone without a single spark of hope. What kind of human being could kill a child?

And then she'd found the group, found _him_. She'd killed again to save the family which she'd been a part of once. One last sacrifice before she moved on. She'd been cold, merciless, much like the walker she'd disguised herself as, taking out any and all threats to her people. Her conscience had been silent.

He'd run to her, nearly knocking her down in his desperation to get to her … and he'd made her feel alive in the space of a heartbeat. She'd reveled in his embrace, committing every touch, every whisper of breath to memory before her sense of unworthiness returned. She would never forgive herself for the things she'd done, how she'd been. How could she expect him to? She was poison.

She'd lost him when she'd realized what the blonde girl must have meant to him. Daryl had spent a lot of time with Beth on the road after the prison had fallen. He had wanted to save her, and his obsession with the girl had left no room for doubts … he'd loved her. When he'd stopped Carol from leaving, she'd had no choice but to accompany him to Atlanta on a mission to save the girl. She'd been determined to help him find the girl he loved. He'd deserved love, even if Carol would never be the woman he desired.

She'd lost him when she'd let him go. It seemed when the little blonde had died, a part of him had faded with her. He'd lost the girl he'd loved, and Carol hadn't been able to offer him solace, not this time. And even if he'd asked her to start over, to _try_ , it had just been another painful misunderstanding. Clear lines had been drawn in the sands, boundaries limiting their relationship to one of friendship. There would never be more, not when his heart had been claimed by another.

So, she'd stepped away from the group she felt she'd never be a part of again, distanced herself from him, becoming invisible to the residents of Alexandria Safe Zone as she'd been a lifetime ago. The cold-blooded fighter she'd been had been replaced by the meek housewife. She'd adapted, playing her role, her outward visage masking her dark predator's heart. She'd created a person people could trust, hoping one day she could convince herself her act was real, to see a human being reflected in the mirror … instead of the monster.

He'd lost her.

He'd lost her when he'd thrown those words at her like poisonous barbs, the result of his blind anger and desperation over the loss of Sophia, his failure, his pain he couldn't share with her. She'd stood there, his verbal beating washing over her, toxic and biting, her chin lifted proudly despite her broken spirit, taking the blame for her daughter's death upon her frail shoulders. She hadn't pushed him away when he'd been done … a miracle, that.

He'd lost her at the farm. As everyone evacuated, he'd sat there straddling his bike, watching the world burn. His heart had felt as if it had stopped as her scream had pierced the air, sending him into a flurry of motion, wheeling the Triumph in the direction from which the sound had come, praying he wasn't too late. He'd seen her flagging strength and yelled for her to hurry, never having been so afraid for anyone other than himself. She'd wedged herself against him, burying her face against his leather clad shoulder as together they'd sped away, dodging the herd which seemed to encroach from all sides, the glow of the fire left behind in their wake.

He'd lost her in the tombs, brought flowers to an empty grave, and lost himself in his sorrow. He'd focused on Little Asskicker and the multitude of tasks needing to be done to secure their home. He'd refused to believe she was gone - lost forever - and he'd looked for answers in the tombs, afraid to find her walker, doubting he'd have the strength to put her down. Afraid it would be more than he could bear. But he'd had to be certain, even if seeing her azure gaze discolored to a milky white would suffer nightmares until the end of his days. Deep inside, he'd never given up hope of finding her alive … and he had.

He'd lost her when he'd chosen to go off with Merle rather than returning to the prison, to _her._ Perhaps then he'd sensed there would never be a chance for them to become more than friends. His brother had been his blood, his family, unlike Carol who'd been a puzzle. If he'd pushed, surely she would have rejected him, what he felt for her. She'd been lost to him, regardless.

Her allure, however; had been too strong to resist, and he'd run back to the prison - his brother in tow - sure she wouldn't forgive him for leaving, yet hopeful she would at least still want to be his friend. Even if she could never share his feelings, she would see him as a friend … a friend who'd left without a word. And instead of reproaching him for his absence, she'd welcomed him with open arms and told him how glad she'd been to have him back.

He'd lost her when Rick - the man who'd called himself his _brother_ \- had sent her away. There had been no hope, no chance to look for her before the prison fell that fated afternoon. Afterwards, his only task had been to protect the girl placed in his charge, another girl he'd failed. This time, Carol had been the one to find _him_ , to save him. She'd put herself in danger and evolved into a warrior, one which had saved them all.

He'd lost control, the need to touch her, to feel her body pressed to his, to revel in her warmth and know she was alive and with him again overwhelming. The soft woman he'd held, who'd sent a calming peace to settle over him, through his whole being, was a fighter. He had her back, but he could sense she was different. This woman was cold and hard, her mask slipping back into place as he'd let her go.

He'd lost her when the car had hit her, those people taking her with them. He'd wanted to run after her, fighting against the boy who'd held him back. He hadn't even known if she was still alive. After they'd plummeted from the bridge - her delicate hand resting atop his - she'd been injured. How much more damage might the second accident have caused to her body? She'd been taken from him, alone, injured and at the mercy of strangers. His only thought had been his need to get her back.

He'd found her again, saved her once more, but he'd lost someone else along the way. Not just missing this time, and his failure had been complete.

Every time he'd lost her and gotten the chance to get her back, he'd felt as if Carol had changed yet again. She'd become an independent fighter, capable of taking care of herself, a force of nature, and he'd adored her more for her struggle, for the fortitude she showed in order to grow. Yet, he'd also felt her slipping away, the distance between them widening like a gaping chasm. There had been something she hadn't wanted to talk about, not even to him. She'd shut him out.

The rift between them continued to grow, drifting apart with every missed chance, and when they'd entered the safe zone and she'd donned her mask, he'd been sure. He'd played all his cards, missed every chance … it had been too late.

The woman he thought he'd known was no more, a stranger in her place. She couldn't have been further away from him if they were on opposite sides of the world. Her appearance had stunned him - the floral cardigans, slacks and house shoes - her need to ingratiate herself into the community while keeping her eyes open for subterfuge. A part of her was still there; he just had no access to her, and it stung him deeply. What had happened to the bond they'd shared? Perhaps it had evolved out of desperation and loneliness. Maybe the only reason she'd clung to him was due to the fact they'd both been outsiders on the very fringe of the group. They'd needed one another, neither having anyone left in the world to call family. Because he'd failed to save her little girl, did she think he owed it to her to offer his protection? What were they now when she no longer needed him to take care of her?

She hadn't needed him to survive her banishment, nor during her search for the remaining survivors from the fall of the prison. She certainly hadn't needed him when she'd destroyed Terminus single-handedly. And now she had fitted herself perfectly into this new community. She'd made herself invisible again, much like the woman he'd met at the quarry. He had to wonder if this was the person she wanted to be, if the woman he loved had simply been another act she'd created just for him, because she'd needed his protection.

He shouldn't have even tried to become a valued member of the community. Someone like him wasn't made for a place which reminded him of 'Pleasantville' with all the beautiful houses and smiling people. They took their dogs for walks, while his group had been forced to eat canines out on the road. The people of this community were blinded, thinking the walls would provide safety and security, unsuspecting of what awaited them in the world beyond the gates. He suspected they didn't want to know, instead going about throwing parties he never joined.

After weeks in Alexandria, it became his habit to go on runs during the day and walk alone along the walls at night, secluding himself into the garage at Aaron and Eric's home. A bed in the midst of all the tools, spares and his bike was all he really needed.

When it became silent inside his shelter, when night deepened and the outside world quieted, his thoughts would venture to her. He still questioned her appearance, ever hopeful the person she'd become was merely a charade. One she clung to, one which she wouldn't lift … not even for him.

Outside the walls, he fought against the dead; inside against the living. Before the turn, the people of this community would have crossed the street, unwilling to share the sidewalk with such white trash. Now, he was respected, his skills with his bow and knife, his keen sense of survival garnering their praise. He protected them, fed them and they admired him. The women who had looked at him before as if he'd been dirt under their shoes suddenly saw him as desirable. They chased after him, making him feel like prey instead of the mighty hunter he was. They presented themselves to him on a silver platter. All he would have to do is choose one and surrender himself to her attentions.

Still he wavered, wondering if he should hide from them or take what was offered. He mused thoughtfully about what was left for him in the new world, and if some distraction couldn't ease the pain he suffered every time he looked at _her._ She wouldn't care, not even as a friend. But for him, his heart ached with betrayal. Yet, why should he hold onto someone who'd never been his, would never be his, when perhaps he had a chance to numb himself with someone else?

 **Chapter End Notes:**

Thank you for reading!

I hope you like it.

Let me know what you think! :)


	2. Haunting Pictures

**Warning for Daryl/other temp!**

Most of the time he pulled away, busying himself with supply runs, recruiting with Aaron, and hunting; anything to escape the pain, to further distance himself from her. He avoided everyone, resented the safety of the walls, and had never deigned to attend one of the many parties the citizens seemed to favor. Eventually, he'd moved out of the house he'd shared with Carol and Rick's family, choosing instead to dwell in Aaron's garage. He avoided her.

While Carol did her best to keep up appearances and the image she'd constructed, he clung to his rough exterior, remaining true to who he really was, uncaring how he was viewed by the community. He refused to change, wanting her to see him as he'd always been; a constant reminder of the man she'd always known. He didn't want her to forget. He threw himself into his work, applying his skills to his work in the community, which brought him acceptance and respect, without even realizing it.

But others began to take notice, especially the women who saw him as a handsome, capable man. He didn't encourage their attentions, but he didn't reject them either, not with a _stop_ like he'd done with her. He simply cast them a shy smile and blushed. It might have only been a matter of time.

Perhaps a broken heart would heal better than one with a crack, albeit a crack which seemed to be a gaping chasm of pain and remorse, never to close. It would hurt to see him with someone else, but she could endure, couldn't she? After all she'd been through, everything she'd done; it was a miracle she could still feel at all. Apparently, she hadn't become cold enough, strong enough.

She felt like a cold-blooded killer. She shouldn't even begin to count the people she'd killed. Souls she'd eliminated, removing them from the world, leaving her broken but determined, the nightmares not enough to finish her, but leaving her a shell of her former self.

He didn't want to go to the party, but Rick had convinced him to attend. Some kind of 'we're still alive shit' after the herd had torn a section of the wall down and flooded the streets. After the first repairs and even without Deanna, the community still wanted to uphold their traditions. His stomach churned and twisted relentlessly at the thought. For months, he'd been able to excuse himself, but the comments about his absence had become more pronounced, more frequent. He couldn't continue to hide himself away anymore. The prospect of at least getting drunk, to numb his pain and then duck out secretly, quietly after an hour or two allowed him to pull himself together and gather his courage at the idea of 'socializing'. He took a shower and donned the least ragged of his clothes before he dragged himself to the house which had been Deanna's, each step heavier than the last.

He was met with music and laughter as he took a deep breath and opened the door, nodding to those who called out in greeting.

After she'd turned into the one woman army to fight the wolves single-handedly and battled against the dead which had flooded the safe zone, she'd once again donned the good housewife persona. His gaze unconsciously sought her out, finding her standing near the stairs, involved in a conversation with one of the men from the community. They seemed to interact with friendly familiarity, presenting a haunting picture for his already tortured mind. Nevertheless, she glanced up and their eyes met for a mere second. He couldn't read her expression. Had it really come to this, not even friendship existing between them? He felt unwanted and out of place.

Quickly averting his eyes, he headed for the makeshift bar and grabbed himself a beer before finding a seat on one of the empty sofas. It didn't take long before someone joined him, one of the women who'd continued to chase him, settling next to him without warning.

She'd baked cookies and made casseroles for the party, just as she'd done a hundred times before. Making herself useful was her given, monotony her friend, losing herself in the mundane to guard her heart against the pain. In the presence of others, she made sure to smile and laugh at just the right moments, take part in conversations about recipes and her happy housewife life before the turn. She would nod and pretend to listen, forcing her lips into a thin serious smile when someone would reveal something sad or bittersweet. She was an empathetic person by nature. Yet, she screamed inside, waiting for the moment it would be too much.

The jackass standing with her bought her act without question, never noticing her empty eyes leave him every time the door opened as she waited for _him_ in vain. She wanted to avoid Daryl, just as he avoided her, but there was a part of her which wouldn't leave her alone, making her wish and hope he would break and attend the party.

When it was really him who passed the threshold into the foyer, a warm shiver whipped through her body, her lips parting on a silent gasp as their confused gazes met. It only reinforced how much she'd missed him. The man standing with her became aware of her inattention, but she was quick and skilled enough to hold onto her facade with an apologetic grin, excusing her lapse even as her heart fluttered with the knowledge _he_ was near.

From the corner of her eye, she observed him unobtrusively as he took a seat, beer in hand. He drank quickly, his hair falling away from his face as he upended the bottle. Her gaze traveled over his throat, watching the pulse leap beneath his jaw, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. She'd always enjoyed perusing him when he believed himself to be alone.

It became hard to focus on the conversation with the man who seemed to cling to her like glue when a blonde woman took the empty seat next to Daryl. Carol had noticed her before, an attractive woman in her thirties who always seemed to sense his presence. When he was inside the walls, she always sought him out, making it clear to any who might bear witness that she was clearly pursuing the hunter. The blonde could offer him everything Carol couldn't. She was young, pretty, and outwardly innocent, much like someone else Daryl had adored once. The woman was his type, and with clear determination, she would get what she was after.

His head buzzed from the alcohol he'd drunk - four beers and a few shots of whisky - and the grating voice from the woman who'd sat with him as he made his way back to the garage. He'd excused himself - headache - needing to calm down. He was anxious, needing to be away from the noise and chatter. It had been too much … just as he'd known it would be.

Blessed silence met him as he closed the door behind him, peace settling over him, provided by his presence in his safe haven. Yet, it wasn't to last as his mind focused unwillingly on the events of the evening - Carol engrossed in conversation with some asshole Daryl remembered worked on the construction crew building up and reinforcing the walls, the buzzing chatter of those around him, and that blonde with her incessant questions, making his gorge rise and anxiety buzz like bees beneath his skin. She reminded him of Beth, but older. For her the world was still full of birds, flowers and sunshine, and he'd had a difficult time holding onto his temper as he'd sat listening to her.

The woman had rested a hand on his thigh, just above his knee as she'd tried to draw him into conversation, leaving no room for doubts or mistaken impressions of what she wanted. He could have had her, his for the taking. Instead, he'd left the party alone. He should have accepted her blatant invitation, brought her home with him and lost himself in her soft body, but her touch had repulsed him. He didn't want her cloying hands on him, touching him. He didn't want anyone touching him except _her … Carol._

Lying down on his bed, he could feel the anger welling inside him. Anger and frustration, fueled by the alcohol he'd drunk, feelings he knew all too keenly. He whipped open his belt and unfastened his pants. Why should he want sex if his shitty life continued to fuck him every damned day? His calloused hand wrapped around his limp cock and squeezed almost painfully as he attempted to relieve the ache which plagued him. He couldn't even accomplish that, apparently, as his movements were interrupted by a knock on the door.

More frustrated than before, he made his way to the side door, straightening his clothes with an irritated groan. _Who th' fuck?_

"Hey! I thought you might need a few aspirin. How's your head?" the blonde woman - who he thought he'd gotten rid of - smiled sweetly, teasingly, as he opened the door. He didn't even remember her name - Leyla … Lindsay … Laura? - but screw it, he couldn't have cared less about it either.

"Naw, I'm a'right … don't need nothin'," he stammered, wondering what else he could say to be rid of her.

Yet, she was persistent. "So, when you're feeling better, you'll invite me in, huh?" she asked expectantly.

She didn't give him a chance to answer, pushing her way inside the garage and closing the door behind her quickly, her lustful gaze scorching a path down his body to settle on his groin. In his hurry to answer the door to banish the intruder, he'd forgotten to close his belt properly, the ends trailing against his thighs.

Without warning, her lips latched onto his, her hands trailing over his body. The sudden impact stunned him, his reaction slow before he came to his senses and jerked away from her.

Confusion colored his countenance as his body trembled from the disquieting touch.

"Big boy … I could help you," she teased, stalking closer to take his hand and guide it to one of her breasts. "It must've been a long time since you've had a warm, willing woman. I can give you what you need."

His need for _something_ battled against what he knew was wrong, his hand squeezing her breast as the other palmed her ass. "But not … not like this … I don't want ya to touch me an' …" he growled sharply.

"Whatever you want," she breathed. "Just tell me what you want."

"Turn around," he ordered coldly.

She did as she'd been instructed and turned around to rest her forearms against the seat of his bike, her back arching, pushing her ass towards him, offering herself up to him. She pulled the dress up, revealing the smooth, firm globes of her ass, nothing but the light of the fluorescents covering her skin as she reached for the condom in her bra.

"Hmh, my bad boy likes it rough, yeah?" she moaned as she gave him the rubber.

"Shut up!" he snarled as he came to stand behind her, taking the condom from her as he fought with his fly.

Harsh reality stayed his hand. The situation reminded him of the few sexual experiences he'd had years ago. It had never been good or satisfying; an itch which he'd tried to scratch in vain. It had never worked well for him, so why should it now? At the moment, he was farther away from getting an erection than five minutes before. The woman was bare to him from the waist down, all soft skin and glistening folds … and the sight did _nothing_ for him.

His eyes closed, thoughts drifting to Carol. He should think of _her_ , think of Carol and how many sleepless nights she'd caused him at the prison, the sweet swell of her breasts revealed to him over the bodice of the tank tops she'd worn, the thin material clinging to every curve. Those nights, he'd wandered through the tombs when it had become too much and he'd wanted a quiet place of his own to relieve his ache, his cock pressed painfully against his zipper. She'd always had the ability to make him rock hard without any need to touch him.

It would never be like this with _her._ He'd teased her about the trashy romance novels she loved to read, but they'd become a part of his own fantasies. He'd always imagined her lying on a soft mattress with nice sheets, her naked body bathed in the warm light of countless candles as he would kiss and caress every inch of her pale skin, sweetly, reverently. But here … here there were no soft sheets, no candles or gentle hands … and it wasn't _Carol._

He couldn't do this!

"What's wrong?" The words drifted over the woman's shoulder as she tried to gauge his mood, waiting for him to act.

But he had no chance to answer as the unexpected sound of a knock pulled him back to reality.

"NO!" he yelled, but it was already too late, the door opening. He felt his stomach plummet to his feet as he stared into the depths of those fathomless azure eyes which haunted his every waking moment, and sometimes his dreams.

This was not what she'd expected to find when she'd seen him leaving the party alone. Two glasses of wine hadn't dulled her senses enough to make some stupid drunken confession, but the urge to be close to him had been overwhelming. She'd wanted to see him, and perhaps talk to him as they'd done in days gone by. She'd felt hopeful, just wanting to reconnect with him in some small way.

So, she'd made her way down the street to his place on shaky legs and knocked on the door. But instead of waiting for his answer, she'd let herself in, never dreaming of what she'd find inside.

Daryl stood there, poised behind the blonde who'd been his constant companion at the party, his pants unfastened. The blonde stared back at her from where she was leaned over his bike, her dress hiked up around her waist, her bare ass stretching towards him.

Carol felt the earth moving - or was it her feet - nausea rising and churning in her gut at the image before her. She threw a hand up over her eyes, but it didn't help to wipe the scene from her inner eye. She wouldn't forget it for as long as she lived.

"I'm sorry … I didn't … didn't mean to … interrupt," she stammered, forcing her features to rearrange themselves into a serene mask. She closed the door swiftly with a loud bang, her legs on autopilot as they carried her away from the evidence of her heartbreak.

She'd been there for barely a fraction of a second, but Daryl hadn't missed the shock and pain in her eyes before she'd had the chance to bolt. The reality of what he'd done slammed into him with the force of a freight train. _He'd hurt her … but how? If she didn't care … how had he been able to hurt her?_

It wasn't easy to close his pants as he ran after her, following without hesitation, calling for her, needing her to stop and listen to what he had to say.

"SHIT! WAIT! CAROL!" he yelled as he tried to draw level with her.

But she was already yards ahead, ignoring his desperate pleas, which also happened to be the first words spoken between them in weeks. It was pitying, the first time he'd called her by name, and she couldn't help but muse … _Why now?_

"Go back to her, Daryl!" she cried over her shoulder, trying to quell the trembling in her voice in vain. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

When he was finally close enough, he reaching out to grab her arm, wrenching her around to face him, but she yanked herself from his grasp, her eyes murderously tossing daggers of genuine hurt in his direction.

"Carol … please, wait … I'm so sorry …" he breathed heavily, fishing for the right words in his desperation, his voice trembling. "Oh, my god, Carol … yer cryin'. "Why are ya cryin'?"

More tears hovered behind her lids, threatening to spill as she shot him a look of disgust. She still couldn't believe what she'd seen. Her reaction was confession enough, so why must he force her to talk? "You want confessions … now? You need to hear it, do you? Why do you even care?" she hissed. "Leave me alone. I'm not your problem, remember? You didn't hesitate to remind me that night. Or has it slipped your mind?"

The blonde suddenly appeared behind Daryl, barging in on their heated discussion. "Holy shit! I had no idea you were into older women!"

"Shut th' fuck up, an' piss off, stupid bitch!" he yelled at her.

"ASSHOLE!" the woman spat as she turned around and stormed off.

His eyes left Carol for but a moment, turning to curse at the woman, but when he spun around, wishing to continue their talk, it was to find Carol running towards her house, running away from _him._


	3. Through the Door

**Thank you for your feedback so far! :)**

The blonde's callous words had been the last straw and made Carol feel even more humiliated. No one had to tell her she was old. She knew this; she wasn't dumb!

Charging into the house, taking the stairs two at a time, she nearly stumbled over her own feet. Her heart pounded rapidly as she made her way to her room, hot tears running mercilessly over her cheeks. She didn't care about the noise she'd made stomping up the stairs or from the slam of her bedroom door, desperate to lock herself away with her pain. Only a small twinge of remorse made her wince as she heard Judith cry out.

The baby's cries were suddenly joined by the cacophony of Daryl's pounding steps as he followed her up the stairs, and the voices of their friends as they came out of their bedroom to investigate the disturbance. It was a mess of muddle noises.

"What the hell is going on?" Rick roared furiously. He'd barely had a chance to close his eyes after crashing into bed after the party.

"Carol … she saw me an' … oh, gawd!" Daryl stammered, his whole body trembling, his face ashen with dread.

Dawning realization had Rick gnashing his teeth in outrage, remembering the woman on the sofa with Daryl at the party. "Daryl, what the fuck has gotten into you?" he seethed, his voice dangerously low. "We'll go downstairs. Judith can sleep on the travel cot in the guest room while YOU fix this mess!"

"Shit, I dunno how," Daryl replied desperately.

Michonne shook her head, cooing to Judith where the child was perched on her hip. "How could you not know how much you mean to her … how much you mean to each other?" she asked incredulously, her mouth set into a line of disapproval.

Running his hands over his face, he watched Rick and Michonne take Judith and go downstairs. The absence of Judith's cries and their friend's righteous indignation allowed him to hear the sounds permeating from Carol's room - rattling noises, hurried footsteps and the opening of drawers.

The bag under her bed had been half-packed for weeks. She'd been so clever, collecting supplies from the pantry when she'd been sure no one was looking. She should've left a long time ago. It would have spared her from seeing … _him_. God, she would never be able to erase that image from her mind! Silent tears made it hard for her to see what she was doing as she blindly reached for clothes and sundries from her closet.

Carol breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm so her voice wouldn't quaver and fail her. "I'm leaving in five minutes, and when I do, I want you gone. I know you can hear me, Daryl," she addressed the man on the other side of the locked door.

"Carol … please talk to me," he begged, the doorknob rattling in vain beneath his hand over and over again.

"Won't you just listen to me for once?! I'm tired of people making decisions for me. I can't take this friendship - or what it once was - I just can't do it anymore! Tell Rick there's nothing to fix," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she tried to swallow around the lump of emotion lodged in her throat.

"I'm not … I ain't goin' nowhere 'til ya talk to me. I can't let ya leave," he said clearly, struggling with his words as he tried to calm his own raging emotions and the panic welling behind his breastbone.

"Daryl, please … what do you want from me?" she asked, inching closer to the door. The bag was sitting on her bed, ready for her to take with her when she left, but now she was trapped, knowing she couldn't leave as long as he was blocking her only escape route. It was too dangerous to use the window. If she dropped wrong, she could injure herself, and she couldn't take that chance. She had just recovered from the injuries which she'd had to suffer from the fight with Morgan; one more injury she'd had to get through alone. She was always on her own and never complained. It hadn't been the first time she'd had to bear some broken ribs without whining.

"I'm gonna stay here with ya 'til ya open th' damn door … I'm gonna wait," he said brokenly, pressing his brow against the solid oak barrier. "I can't let ya leave."

"Why?"

Daryl turned, noticing her voice was closer this time. He slid down to the carpeted floor and leaned back against the door. He wanted to talk, to tell her everything. It was the only way he might have a chance to salvage their relationship.

"Even if ya never wanna look at me again, I won't let ya leave. I promise I'll leave ya alone, an' I'm gonna try not to look at ya anymore. I can't swear I'll succeed, but I'm gonna try. Please don't go. I have to know yer safe," he pleaded.

"No," she breathed.

"I'm waitin' … seems that's what I'm always doin' where yer concerned," he added.

Carol said nothing as she also let herself slide down the door, drawing her knees up and burying her face in her arms, heartsick and defeated. There was no way out. She was so confused as she wondered why he'd run after her, why he was still here. Why was it so important for him to stop her from leaving? She thought back to all the time he'd spent ignoring her, how he'd found another woman, but now he wanted her to stay? What _did_ she mean to him?

"I'll always wait for ya. I was waitin' for ya when the farm was overrun too, do ya remember?" he began again, only to be met with silence. "I'd looked everywhere for ya, but it was as if you'd vanished. So, I waited. I couldn't leave without ya. I had to make sure ya got out," he continued.

 _He'd waited for her?_

Once he started talking, he just couldn't stop. He didn't even care if she was still listening. The words flowed so easily out of his mouth, everything he'd held so close to his chest for years, burned inside him, clawing their way out as he confessed all.

He told her how sorry he was for the things he'd said after Sophia had emerged from the barn, and how glad he had been when she'd slid in behind him on the bike the night they'd had to flee the farm in a trail of dust and walkers and fire.

He told her how badly he'd wanted to inch closer - to blanket her with his body, to share his warmth with her during the winter on the road before they'd found the prison - but how he'd been so afraid of her rejection.

But he'd been far more afraid when she'd been lost in the tombs, desolate as he'd been forced to bottle his grief. He'd never experienced such joy as when he'd found her alive and carried her delicate body back to her cell, admitting to her how selfish he'd felt for enjoying the closeness of her pressed against him.

He rested his cheek and hands against the door as he spoke, wanting to be closer to her now, hoping he would be able to reach her in some way.

Carol heard his voice break as he told her how much he'd hated himself for not coming back to the prison when he'd found Merle, but her own words seemed cemented in her throat.

He'd been so furious with Rick when he discovered the man's duplicity - disregarding the council, banishing her, and then trying to convince Daryl he'd been right to do so - wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face so he'd shut the fuck up.

He shared his regret that he hadn't left the prison to look for her. There hadn't been time before the governor arrived, their home in chaos, a mass of smoldering rubble as their family had been forced to flee.

"... An' then I lost Beth. I was responsible for her an' I lost her … like I lost yer lil' girl. I wanted to find her for ya … wanted to see ya smile again," he cried, telling her of his failure. His fault … all his fault they'd lost Sophia and Beth.

She inched closer to the door, leaning her cheek against it, copying his posture on the other side without even knowing it as he poured out his feelings about holding her in his arms in the woods after she'd saved them all from Terminus.

"Gawd … I never thought I'd see ya again after Rick banished ya. An' there ya were … alive an' vibrant, so beautiful even with th' streaks of mud in yer hair." His voice dropped an octave, and she could tell how much it affected him to speak so openly from his heart. "I … I couldn't think of how scared I was … I jus' needed to touch ya, to hold ya, prayin' ya wouldn't push me away. And that night, when ya didn't wanna talk about what happened while we were apart, I could sense th' change in ya. I was scared to push, scared ya were gonna run." He sighed, raking his hand through his shaggy hair, tugging on the ends, needing the pain to ground him. "Atlanta … shit, Carol, how many times am I gonna have to lose ya? Ya were so injured an' I couldn't get to ya before those assholes took ya away."

On the other side of the door, he sometimes thought he could hear her breathing. At other times, he could swear he heard a sob, a hitch of breath, a whimper, and his heart broke for the pain he caused her.

Trying to find the right words, he told her how he'd lived in constant fear for her - every time he hadn't known where she was, how much he missed her, every time they'd been separated. It was a physical ache in his soul to be apart from her, always wondering if she was safe.

It seemed as though they sat there for hours, the door still disconnecting them as he shared things with her he'd never thought to speak aloud.

He told her how much it had hurt to be so close to her, yet so far away since they'd arrived in Alexandria. How he'd missed her then as he missed her now. They'd both tried to distance themselves from the other, to protect their fragile hearts, only to make it worse.

"I miss ya so much … I need ya, Carol," he whispered, unsure if she could hear him. He pressed his brow harder against the door, a solitary tear escaping his tightly closed lids. "Carol …"

"I-I miss you too," she returned quietly, her voice raspy from trying to quell her tears.

He winced slightly when he realized she'd heard every word, every whimper, every pang of emotion which littered his voice. He'd made himself vulnerable to her, and he could only pray she would believe him.

"Then why … why did you do this … with _that woman_. Please … tell me why, Daryl," she pleaded.

"I was so angry. I'd just seen ya with that guy at th' party. Ya looked like ya were havin' a good time, and … I thought I'd lost ya … for good this time. I didn't think ya gave a shit 'bout me anymore, Carol." He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to suppress the burning onslaught of tears, hating himself for what he'd done. "I couldn't stand seein' ya with him, so I went home … alone. But she followed me, an' I guess it was too much. I was gonna use her to forget about ya, or at least try. I couldn't do it because … because all I could think about was you," he admitted.

"You almost -" the last words got stuck in her throat.

"NO!" he barked, rising to his knees on his side of the door, wanting so badly to break it down, to look her in the eye and make her see his sincerity. "I couldn't. Ya didn't interrupt anythin'. The moment I realized I couldn't do it, ya were jus' standin' there, an' … I know I fucked up … I'm so sorry," he stammered, trembling with emotion. "Carol …"

He sucked in a deep breath, his chest afire, needing so badly to say it … to finally share what he felt. Even if the words scared the hell out of him, he owed it to himself, to _her._ "I dunno when it changed, an' at first I didn't even know what the hell it was, but … I … I love ya. I've loved ya for so long. I ain't never loved anybody like this because … because I didn't know how. I know I don't deserve ya, but I … I want ya to know. Ya need to know," he confessed, wiping his eyes against his forearm.

She could hear the tears in his voice which only brought a new wave of her own to stream over her cheeks. She sat stunned, afraid to hope what he'd said was true. But she knew him better than anyone, and she knew he wouldn't lie to her … not about this, not when it took so much courage for him to voice his feelings. But she had her own weight to bear, burdens on her soul when confessed would not allow for a happy ending. "I'm not the woman you think I am. I've done terrible things, Daryl."

"There ain't a one of us in this group who ain't done the same. Goddamnit, there ain't no more courts or jails in this fuckin' world. We have to take care of it on our own - kill or be killed - we have to protect our own, self-defense. Ya ain't th' only one who's feelin' guilty about shit, but we ain't got a choice," he tried to reason with her.

"I'm a monster," she cried.

"Ya ain't … yer my Carol, an' I want her back. I'm sure ya haven't done anythin' I wouldn't've done in yer place, an' I love ya no matter what," he said, trying to calm her down.

"As a sister … a friend … a mother? How do you love me? I have to know, Daryl," she murmured, almost afraid to hear his answer. In spite of all the things he'd said, she had to be sure.

"Carol, ya ain't listenin', are ya? I love ya like … like … damnit, I'm _in love_ with ya, Carol!" he practically shouted through the door he was coming to hate, wishing to take an axe to the wood keeping him from her.

After a moment of silence, he heard her move, followed by the distinctive click of the lock releasing. The blood thundered loudly in his ears, his heart pounding as he hesitantly reached for the doorknob. A sigh of relief whispered past his parted lips as it turned beneath his hand and the physical barrier between them was no more.

She sat there, some feet away on the floor, hugging her bent legs, waiting for him.

Ignoring the dread of her possible rejection, he fell to his knees, his trembling hands reaching for her, pulling her against his chest, enveloping her in his arms. She didn't pull away, but clung to him with willing acceptance, and he wanted to weep. He melted into her, warmth flooding him, _his_ Carol, _his_ home. She held him as if she never wanted to let him go, her hands fisting in his shirt over his lower back, her face buried against his throat. It could have been for a second or an eternity, but one thing was certain … their need for one another was strong, unbreakable, even in the face of such upset.

They broke apart, his hands gentle as he cradled her face, her own hand delving into his hair, the other against his throat, holding one another, reveling in the connection they'd feared was lost. It hadn't been so blatantly obvious to either of them since their reunion in the woods after Terminus.

He longed for the softness of her lips, but he was still too afraid to make the first move. He'd hurt her too badly, and now he was afraid to push, afraid to ask for too much, too soon. His heart rejoiced that she'd finally opened the door for him, had allowed this closeness, but how much would be too much? His fear of rejection stayed his hand. He was still unsure of what she saw in him, or if she even returned his feelings. What if he'd destroyed any hope for them by his actions that day?

In the end, it was her who couldn't stand the tension anymore - it was time - and she took what he so willingly gave, took what she'd been craving for years as she covered his lips with hers. Eyes closed, her lips barely moved, cherishing this new aspect of their soul-deep connection. Jolts and vibrations ran hotly through them both, lips seeking in a gentle give and take, hands searching out the unknown, unable to be close enough to one another. Lips on lips, mixed with the salty taste of tears - his or hers, neither knew - but the last piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place and their masterpiece was complete.

Carol was the first to pull away, capturing his eyes, their depths filled with so much adoration and hope, but also simmering embers of pain and disappointment. "I love you too," she finally whispered, "but I can't forget what I saw, Daryl," she sobbed.

"I know, me neither," he mumbled roughly, holding her tightly against his chest, his lips pressed to her temple. "But maybe someday? Someday when ya can trust me again? Please … we have to try."

"I want to … I hope I can," she tried to smile through her tears.

"Can I stay … here with ya?" he asked, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "Jus' … gawd, woman, I don't think I can walk out that door. I need to hold ya, s'all. Carol …"

"Please," she replied quietly.


	4. Found

**This is the last part and I'm sad in some way,** **because it's already over. Thank you for sticking with me on this short trip! :)**

After pining for him for years, she was finally lying in his arms, and she had never felt more cherished and wanted. He'd replaced the cruel pain of seeing him with that other woman - the haunting pictures in her mind she could not banish - with the relieving pain of his confessions. Confessions she'd thought she would never hear … never feel. Familiar tears continued to plague her, but the source was different. From this pain, she would be able to heal, with him by her side, and time to do so stretched before her. It seemed Daryl would give her all the time she needed.

Even if her feelings were a mess because of the events of that fateful evening, she nevertheless fell into a deep and heavy sleep each night, just like him, giving in to the exhaustion which was just another part of their lives.

The unspoken question of why it had taken them so long to get this far - to finally open up to each other - hung thickly in the air, but neither she nor he asked. This question would probably never be spoken out loud because they already knew the answer. Both had always been aware of their own insecurities and the walls each had built up. Maybe they needed that moment of shocking disbelief to turn their walls into a door ready to be opened.

His presence helped her heal with every second they spent together. Musing about how they would deal with the new turn in their relationship, he seemed to approach it in an unexpected way. He was straightforward and eager, rather than running from his insecurities.

He longed to be close to her, craving to be near her. He didn't care if anyone noticed. She hadn't wanted to thrust their relationship into the public eye, fearing he'd be uncomfortable with the scrutiny of their peers, yet he was open and forthright, taking her hand or caressing her shoulder, an unconscious move which felt natural to him. He didn't give a shit for what the citizens of Alexandria thought of them, and it surprised her.

One morning, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, his arms wrapped loosely around her, he'd kissed her as they'd waited for Rick and his family to join them for the breakfast she'd made. She'd almost winced when Rick had entered the room, expecting Daryl to pull away, but instead he'd given her another quick kiss and shyly grinned at his friend.

"You don't have to do this - holding my hand and -" she'd said that same night once they'd settled down in their bed, the day having been long and strenuous. There were still loads of things to do. Alexandria was safe once more, but still not fully recovered from the devastation of the herd.

"Ya don't want me to touch ya when th' others are lookin'?" he'd interrupted, his brows darkly knitted with confusion and perhaps a little hurt.

She'd shaken her head. "I do want it, but I'm unsure as to whether or not you do. You're not known for public displays of affection, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I don't want you to feel forced to do this because you think this is what I want," she'd tried to explain.

"I'm yours and yer mine, right? I don't give a shit about th' others. I barely see ya th' whole day because we're always so busy with stuff. I want to be close to ya, Carol … I want to touch ya whenever I can. That's what I want," he made clear, his lips finding hers in a sweet lingering kiss as he pressed his body close to hers.

It didn't take the group long to notice the change in their relationship, especially Rick and Michonne. They cared for their friends, wanting to make sure they were both alright after everything that had happened. But instead of curious questions, the couple received sympathetic smiles. The group still saw them as Carol and Daryl, only with a new deeper connection, one brought about through their love. It was stronger than the bond they'd formed at the prison, strengthened by honesty and openness.

"I'm glad the two of you are finally together," Rick had said to Daryl while out on a supply run.

Daryl had shot him a half smile and nodded from the passenger seat as they'd driven through open country, meadows and pastures dotting either side of the road. He'd been glad Rick had finally turned the music down before he'd begun the conversation. Still better than th' annoyin' music! he'd mused.

"Did she forgive you?" Rick asked.

Daryl had faced him with raised brows. "Nothin' to forgive. We were both dumb, did stupid things … I didn't do anythin' with that woman, an' Carol knows it. It's just hard for her 'cause she saw me with that bitch. She saw what I almost did. I should've kicked that woman out, shouldn't have let her in to begin with, but … damn … yeah, I fucked up," he admitted.

"It's nothing y'all can't get over, right? Your love is stronger than this shit, Daryl. Just give her time … she's gonna need it."

Meanwhile in Alexandria Carol was confronted with the blonde woman as she tidied up the pantry to make room for the supplies she hoped Rick and Daryl would find on the run. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid this person forever. The community was small; it was unrealistic to think they'd never run into one another. Carol avoided her gaze, rearranging the inventory with busy hands while Olivia took care of the intruder. From what Carol could feel, the woman ignored her just the same; maybe she'd learned her lesson.

Carol often brooded about how the woman's appearance would affect her, but she was pretty surprised about how unruffled she was; not even a spark of jealousy hit her. The self-deprecating presumption of not being able to compete with the blonde was eliminated by Daryl and his love for her. He wanted her and not the other woman.

"I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef," the strange man - with the unusual moniker of 'Jesus' - said politely, a faint smile at the corners of his lips.

Carol eyed him skeptically, pursing her lips. "Thank you for the compliment, but I'm sure that's not the reason you're here," she replied.

This long haired hippie with the ridiculous nickname was the reason Daryl and Rick had lost the truck out on their most recent run - a fact which still upset her - but deep down she was happy to hear there were other people in the world. He expounded on Alexandria's pros and cons - less food, but more guns - the lack of sustenance leaving them weakened. The idea of communities which could help them, help each other, gave her hope. Perhaps they could work together and make a new start for a better world. Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger! the man had said, and Carol wanted to believe him so badly.

When Daryl returned from the community from which Jesus hailed, she knew nothing in the new world was free … much like in the old. They would have to fight; they would have to kill, and she didn't know if she could do it anymore.

Daryl had experience with her nightmares. He'd studied them extensively after they'd had to flee the farm. On the long and dangerous road trip over that hard winter, he'd observed her from a distance. He'd seen her tense body as it moved restlessly on the hard ground as she'd tried to sleep beneath a worn and tattered blanket too ratty to provide enough warmth for her frail frame. He'd heard the word fragments which would stutter past her blue-tinged lips, her breath leaving little puffs of steam in their wake. He'd always been too far away to help her, and too afraid to close the distance between them.

Now, as he was able to lay himself down close to her side at night, he could catch her when she sank into the tortures of her subconscious. Sometimes, she would kick and scream as her dead husband taunted her. Remembering advice he'd found in the book he'd taken from the women's shelter in Atlanta - that fateful night they'd spent there - he'd calmly convinced her to talk, hoping it would help her to shed her demons.

There were also the dreams where she called and cried out for her daughter - Sophia! - and they would reminisce over their shared memories. And Carol would share things he hadn't known, things from their life before until their tears mingled and their limbs twined, unable to get close enough to one another.

She also told him about the burned arms and grasping hands, tearing at her clothes, clawing at her flesh, intent on pulling her into the fire, punishment for her deeds against those she'd been willing to sacrifice to save the whole prison. In the end, she'd been alone, frightened, not a spark of hope within her that she'd ever see her family again.

The nightmares which made her shiver and sweat in her sleep were those dreams about the girls she'd lost, about blood-painted flowers and the hard decision she'd had to make. It was a decision she would always regret and never forget, but she was still his Carol and not the monster she believed herself to be. He should've been there for her.

I should've been there … I should've done it! It should've been ME! he thought, kissing her hair and brushing his thumb so gently over her cheeks to erase the evidence of her tears.

When those nightly hauntings eased and became less frequent, there was a new nightmare to take their place - a quiet one - maybe so quiet he might have missed it before. She didn't move, nor did she make a sound as her silent tears washed over her face, their final destination his shirt. Knitted brows, her lips pressed into a thin line of anguish and her slightly uneven breaths, the only other signs.

Her eyes were wide and frightened as he gently woke her. "Tell me … please," he asked, his usual graveled voice a ragged whisper.

"I … I couldn't move … I had to look," her voice trembled as she whispered.

"Look at what? Tell me," he begged silently as he hesitated to touch her shoulder to comfort her, afraid she would push him away.

"I saw you … with her. M-My feet were so heavy I couldn't run away and my eyes … I couldn't close them and … I had to watch. She … laughed at me," she sobbed, her voice a blur of tears and pain which made it hard for her to speak.

When she finally met his gaze, the pain and guilt in his eyes brought her back to reality. Realizing he was as hurt and torn as she was, she reached for him, pulling him closer.

"I'm so sorry … I can't undo it, I can't! But I love ya an' yer the only one … the one I always wanted. I'm yours, Carol!" his trembling voice whispered in the heavy silence as he buried his face against the crook of her neck.

"I know … I know … I'm not mad at you. I know what happened, you told me everything and I do believe you, it's just my subconscious mind which is giving me a hard time. Maybe it will get better now, since I've told you," she sobbed.

He kissed her softly - hoping it would help as it had the last few times she'd wept after a nightmare - before he caught her gaze again. "Yer sure? I wish ya could forgive me. Hell, I can't forgive myself, but maybe someday ya could."

"I already forgave you, Daryl … and you saved me. You saved me from the nightmare this time … you ended it," she said, gently running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"I'll always save ya … I promise!"

Daryl knew she was uncomfortable with the thought of fighting the other group - it would be no picnic - but the deal had been struck. Begging her to stay behind while he dirtied his hands - paying his dues - was in vain. She would always fight for the group, no matter how hollow it left her afterwards. He wanted to spare the woman he loved so deeply from any more pain and sorrow, but she wanted to go with them, wanted to go with him.

"Do you think we can fight them? What if we just make it worse and they come back at us with more people?" Carol asked worriedly as she climbed into their bed to lie beside him.

His hair, still damp from the shower he'd taken, spread across the pillow as he opened his arms to her in silent invitation, offering the warmth and shelter of his embrace. After weeks of sharing a bed, they enjoyed the closeness, especially on days when their duties kept them apart.

"Not if we kill 'em all … ya don't have t', ya know this," he said as he let his hand flow gently over her back. "Maggie won't change her mind. We've all tried to convince her to stay behind, but she's insistent … stubborn woman! But you'll stay with her … take care of her, a'right? Don't want ya to have to kill anymore if ya can't."

Carol let her body melt into his as she held him close. Even after a shower he still smelled so distinctive, so Daryl and she loved his scent which she sucked in with every breath she took. "And you … I can't lose you. You have to promise me to take care of yourself," she whispered against his shirt.

"I'm fine, won't take any risks … not after all, ya know," he breathed as he kissed her brow.

She raised herself slightly, cupping his cheek, longing for his lips, and he met her halfway as she inched closer, closing the distance. Every time they kissed, it tasted like more, a longing for more, anticipation tart on their tongues as the day drew nearer to the time there would be no barriers between them.

It was one of those kisses which never seemed to end, soft and deep with shy but eager tongues. Until now, they hadn't shared many of those, but they were becoming more frequent. Carol let her hand slide beneath his shirt, yearning to feel his heated skin beneath her fingertips, Daryl still too shy to touch her, his own hands resting at her waist. They were still taking baby steps with intimacy, but they couldn't resist the allure of shy kisses which would slowly deepen as they enjoyed this physical aspect of their relationship.

He'd always had an aversion to touch, but he never felt uncomfortable with Carol, quite the contrary. Her touch was a soothing balm which touched his soul, and his body responded in kind as she kissed him and pressed her body flush with his.

"Carol … damn … we have t' stop!" he growled, pulling away. It had just been too much, the perfect pressure as her hip pressed against his groin.

She looked up at him, her wide azure eyes sparkling with mischief and lust as her teeth raked sensuously over her lower lip. "Oh … sorry, I felt … uhm … no, I thought … I thought you liked this," she stammered, her lips curling into a smirk.

"Do ya wanna … uhm… more?" he asked her as he stared at her in cheerful shock.

She smiled teasingly, claiming his lips once more as she pulled him over her. "I do," she whispered breathily against the corner of his mouth.

"Gawd … Carol … uhm, do ya have candles?"

Carol knitted her brows. "Candles?" she snorted. "Pretty romantic, scre-"

"Stahp! Where? Jus' tell me where," he interrupted her.

After lightening the three candles, Carol told him he would find in her dresser, he headed back to the bed, looking at her as if she was a precious painting before he inched closer. She waited patiently for him, lying on her back, her sloe-lidded eyes following his every move. She couldn't wait to have him back in her arms, to feel him so close to her again. She needed him. His lips were soft, still a bit hesitant as they kissed again, and she gave herself over to her feelings, banishing her doubts with every pull of his lips. The fear of going too far diminished with every second, and was replaced by desire and raw emotion. He couldn't control his hands, free now to touch her everywhere, roaming all over her body, not missing an inch of her creamy alabaster skin. Their need for oxygen, and the overwhelming urge to look into one another's eyes, the need to feel the bond between them, was the only thing which could stop their fevered kisses, only to return to one another once more.

Trying to fight the doubts which suddenly built up inside him, he pulled away and stared at her in adoration, opening his mouth waveringly. "I … I dunno how to do this. It's the first time I'm … carin' for someone, ya know?" he mumbled as he abruptly avoided her eyes in embarrassment.

"Care?" she smiled at him expectantly.

"Love … I love ya," he admitted once again, knowing he just couldn't say it often enough.

She blushed as she'd done the first time he'd told her and ran her fingers along his scalp. "So … show me and stop thinking. Show me how you love me … and let yourself feel how much I love you," she whispered.

Biting his bottom lip, he managed a short nod before their lips met again for a shy kiss which quickly turned heated. She could taste his promise, the trust and their love on his tongue.

After losing one another too many times, they'd finally found comfort, hope and relief in their love … they'd actually found each other after breaking through their barriers.

Now they were lost in time … the moment … and the love they shared, which they would protect with everything they had, as long as the world, which belonged to the dead now, would let them.

When she was eventually lying on the soft mattress with nice sheets, her naked body bathed in the warm light of the candles, he kissed and caressed every inch of her pale skin, sweetly, reverently …

... and she'd never felt more loved.

 **Thank you for reading!**  
 **We all know what happens the next day, but maybe the group has more luck in the universe of my story! I'm eager to hear your opinion! :) I appreciate every kind of review!**

 **I know, the story was a hard read, but the idea just didn't want to leave me alone. That's why I had to write it. I sensed before that the story would cause different reactions and an entire range of opinions, but sometimes you just need to be brave. It can make your world more colorful! ;)**


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